


I Put a Spell on You

by whythursdaynext



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, As far all relationships are concerned ish, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Gen, Magic, Skyeward - Freeform, Starts from the Beginning of Agents of SHIELD, This will be long, because it feels so much more natural that way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythursdaynext/pseuds/whythursdaynext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Grant of Ward has spent many seasons fighting the fiercest beasts of the Wildlands. Then Archduke Fury sends him to the peaceful estates of Baron Coulson. He is quite displeased by this new assignment, until the Baron reveals that all is not well on his lands. A mysterious female in a purple cloak travels throughout, her motives unknown. The people of the Barony believe she is a witch. Sir Ward must find her to ensure continued tranquility.</p><p>But this witch is not a dragon or a griffin, or like any of the creatures he has encountered before. She is a beautiful young woman, and Sir Ward is not prepared for her, or her magic. Soon he will question whether his duty as a knight or the reasoning of a witch should be followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by Nina Simone's "I Put a Spell on You." A shorted transcribed version of these lyrics lead the story. 
> 
> Additionally, this alternate universe operates as though it is the beginning of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the character relationships reflect that point in time, rather than in continuity with the later seasons. (Except for FitzSimmons, but I feel like you will be satisfied with them despite this.) 
> 
> Feel free to comment, or request additional adventures. I do hope you enjoy.

_I put a spell on you_

_'Cause you’re mine_

_You better stop the things you do_

_I ain’t lying_

_You know I can’t stand it_

_Your running around_

_You know I can’t stand it_

_You putting me down_

_I put a spell on you_

_Because you’re mine_

_I love you_

_I love you_

_I love you_

_I love you anyhow_

_And I don’t care if you don’t want me_

_I’m yours right now_

_You hear me?_

_I put a spell on you_

_Because you’re mine_

 

* * *

  
  


Sir Grant of Ward was a faithful knight of the realm; he just did not enjoy spending much time within its borders. Thus, for the past 7 seasons he had been off in the Wildlands, fighting the dragons and other dangerous beasts that threatened to cross into the Kingdom. Unfortunately, his fortunes were about to change. He had reported to the Royal Border Fort as required at the end of the lunar cycle. There, for the first time since he had left the capital city, a letter awaited him. The letter contained a summons to the presence of the Archduke Fury, the noble entrusted with the management of the Kingdom’s knights. It could only mean one thing: that he was to be reassigned. With great reluctance he packed his things onto his horse and headed for the city.

He rode through the majestic towering gate of the outer wall. The city sprawled before him, houses crowded on top of each other, crowds filling the streets, and a stench of poverty and manure everywhere. He did his best not to push his horse over the peasants out of frustration, but slowly made his way down the main boulevard to the the inner walls of the castle. Two soldiers saluted as he passed them by and crossed over the moat bridge. Inside the castle walls were far fewer people, but the smell of filth was ever present. He gave his horse over to the stablemaster’s care. He then inquired after the Archduke. Lord Fury, he was informed, was in his chambers.

When he was granted entrance to the Archduke’s letter room, the Archduke was looking out his window at the valley below. He let Sir Ward wait for a few moments before turning.

“Sir Ward. It has been many seasons.” The Archduke’s hands were clenched behind his back. He had lost one eye in a battle long before, it was covered with a velvet patch. The other eye was stern.

Ward bowed. “It has indeed, Your Grace. Seven, I believe.”

The Archduke shook his head, “No need for formalities, of Ward. Please sit.” He gestured to two straight-backed chairs standing before the fire. Ward sat on the left. The Archduke stared into the fire for a moment before speaking.

“You do not favor the city, do you, of Ward?” He said gruffly.

“I rather prefer the Border and Wildlands. Why do you inquire this, sir?”

“With the years of peace, we have fewer and fewer knights competent to guard our King. I would have you, with your many seasons battling dragons and fiends, as the perfect sword to keep His Majesty safe. But you would not stay in this city.”

“No sir, unless the threat to the King were at the gates of the city.”

Archduke Fury nodded. “My dilemma is such: I have not need for an additional sword here for a few seasons, and with your reluctance to serve, I must find another from the ranks of the newly or not long before knighted to protect His Majesty. This protector must be experienced in battle and in the rough ways of man. As yet, none are worthy.”

“You do not intend me to train another?” Ward asked, disliking this nearly as much as the city.

“I think not. You see, there has recently been a vacancy on the lands of one of the nobles. It is a safe Barony, half twixt here and the Border. I was to send one of the young knights for his first posting. Instead, I shall send you.”

Sir Ward reflected on this choice. It was not the Wildlands. There would be no dragons or magical beasts to thwart. But it was also a Barony, proper lands, no crowded streets full of people.

“Sir, if it is your wish, I will go.”

A broad smile appeared on the Archduke’s face. “Excellent, excellent,” his deep voice thundered, “Your new assignment is to the lands of Barony Coulson. I recommend that you join the company traveling with his daughter, Lady Jemma, and her new husband. They depart in three days.” The Archduke stood.

Sir Ward stood and bowed. “As you command, my liege.”

“Very good. I will have a letter for the Baron sent to your quarters.”

Ward nodded his acknowledgement and turned to leave.

“One last notice, Sir Grant of Ward.”

Ward turned back to the Archduke.

“The Baron is a liberal man, and does not run his lands in the way to which the nobility is accustomed. I hope you will not be unprepared.”

“No, sir.”

“Then blessings on your journey and your new role, Sir Ward.”

“Thank you sir.” Sir Ward bowed and left.

 

***     *     *     *     ***

 

The journey to the lands of the Baron was uneventful. Ward traveled with the Lady Jemma and her husband, the Earl Leo of Fitzsimmons. They were younger than he, and surprisingly for a noble couple, overwhelmingly in love. There was not a moment where Earl Fitzsimmons was not at her side, gazing adoringly at her with the eyes of a young dog. The Lady herself had studied language and medicine with some of the best tutors in town. They spoke in a language reminiscent of scribes or the consuls of His Majesty, but were poor travelers, requiring a carriage, instead of simply proceeding on horseback. With this and their entourage of servants, the trip lasted three days more than he would have expected for such a small distance. He nearly left them several times, but he did not like the look of the soldiers they had employed as bodyguards. Lazy, sloppy fools. So Sir Ward bit his tongue and taught himself to endure the slowness and pratter as he had the cold winds of the Wildlands.

Finally they arrived at the edge of the Barony. It was only a half day to the family’s residence, a large Manor, not a defensible castle. The party arrived at the buildings, where a servant was waiting for their appearance. He disappeared into the house. The travelers dismounted.

Earl Fitzsimmons noticed Ward’s contemplation of the house. “Unusual, is it not? The family here has not required the walls or stones of a true castle for centuries. It is rumoured that they made a pact with a powerful Wizard to keep dangerous persons off their lands. They say that they traded the only daughter of the first Baron and the last gem of their ancestors for this protection, but Jemma, that is Lady Jemma, says that it is simply that their lands are protected from danger by the city to the south and the mountains surrounding. Interesting, do you agree?”

His voice held northern accents and an overabundance of enthusiasm. Sir Ward nodded as politely as possible and looked for a stable, where he could disappear under the pretext of caring for his horse. Alas, before he could leave, the Baron and his household appeared at the doors.

Sir Ward stood behind the Lady and her Earl, shuffling his feet restlessly through the Baron’s welcoming. Really it was only a few moments until the Baron made his way to Ward. He handed his new lord the letter from the Archduke and waited for him to read it.

“I see,” the Baron finally said, folding up the letter. “My family and I honor your service and your company, Sir Grant of Ward. You will be a welcome member of the household.”

Ward bowed. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Sir shall do quite adequately, of Ward. Like the Archduke Fury, I do not set much by formality. Come, we shall find you quarters. After dinner, we can discuss your duties here.”

Ward followed the Baron into the house with the rest of the travelers and the Baron’s household. There, one of the menservants directed Ward to rooms on the top floor of one of the manor’s wings. It was quiet and spacious. Ward found his new space quite large after many seasons living out of his saddlebags. It did not take him long to sort his things, which left him much time until the evening meal. He decided against exploration of his new home, certain that he would encounter someone who would want to ask him questions. Instead he lay on the exceedingly comfortable feather bed and savored the peace.  

 

***     *     *     *     ***

 

Dinner, despite the continued chatter of the Lady and her Earl, was a civilized affair. The Baron had adopted the modern style of dining, the family and guests in an appropriately sized room, with only a few servants present to serve. After the meal had concluded, the Baron invited Sir Ward to his library. It was a large room, filled with volumes. One of the senior manservants appeared briefly to stoke the fire and to pour them both a large glass of brandy. Sir Ward had finished half before the Baron began to speak.

“You have just returned from the Wildlands,” said the Baron. It was not a question.

“Yes, sir.” Ward swirled the remaining brandy in his glass, focusing on it to keep the annoyance off his face. He should still be there, instead of sipping expensive alcohol in a room overflowing with comforts.

“Why would a man so battle ready as you come here, to my settled and peaceful estate?”

“The Archduke’s doing, sir. I could not say myself.”

“Yes.” The Baron contemplated this with a frown. “Does he believe that my lands may soon be in danger? Does he not trust my governance?”

“No, sir, I believe he merely wished to give another knight experience in the Wildlands, and this was the post that sword would have taken.”

“I see, I see.” The Baron paused again, a habit that Ward could not parse as a sign of idiocy or deep thought. “You do not wish to have such a peaceful posting. You would rather face the uncertainties and trials of the wilds.”

“Yes, sir.” He might as well be forthright. It would serve him better in the long run than constantly maintaining an illusion of peaceful life.

“You might be of more use than I originally thought.”

Ward found himself rapidly interested in this conversation. “Sir?”

The Baron smiled. “For the last three seasons, my people have reported sighting a mysterious young girl passing through our lands. She has been seen holding close congress with the beasts the forest and walking on the waters of the river. Some even claim to have been healed by her.”

“A witch.”

The Baron nodded. “Indeed. And a young enchantress at that. Our former sword, Sir Garret —may he rest in peace— was not particularly eager to seek her. It requires many days and nights in the forests of the foothills, and he was not one for discomfort in his last years. You, however, will most likely find this more to your liking than continued confinement in his house.”

“Most certainly, my lord. I can set out tomorrow, if you give me leave to acquire the necessary supplies.”

“Many thanks, of Ward. Speak with the Steward as you take your leave this evening, and he shall have everything prepared by breakfast. Do you require a map of my lands?”

“It would make the search much simpler, sir.”

“Very well, then. I can have a copy drawn tomorrow, although it shall push your departure until the day next. My scribe can annotate the locations of the sightings with it for you.”

“Thank you very much sir.” Sir Ward stood and bowed. “I am very anxious to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“It is you who should be thanked, of Ward, for working to protect my lands so fervently after only a short residence here.”

Ward thanked him for the compliment and hurried out to find the Steward. Perhaps his new assignment would not be as dreadfully boring as he had first supposed.

 

***     *     *     *     ***

 

Ward spent the next day gathering the best field supplies from the kitchens and his predecessor's stores. He had no trouble with provisions. The Baron’s lands and tenants were fruitful, and the cooks knew their way around field rations far better than those at the Royal Fort. His predecessor’s supplies were not as helpful. Many important items were missing or rusted with age. Sir Ward decided to take only a small book of field notes, which he could review later for clues to the state of affairs here. Much later, most likely, as from what he had seen so far, the Baron ran his lands graciously and profitably. His tenants were far more satisfied than any group of peasants Sir Ward had before seen.

These preparations did not occupy his entire day however, and so Sir Ward spent his afternoon wandering the manicured grounds surrounding the manor. He managed to avoid the rest of the household until dinner, which he patiently suffered through, satisfied that tomorrow he would again be fighting the mysterious and wild. The steward brought him the chart immediately following dinner, and he used the time before he retired for the evening to review every sighting and speculation. It did not take him long to find a place to begin looking: the Golden Waterfalls, a half day’s ride east. There were multiple incidences of the witch in that area.

He set off early the next morning, well before the rest of the household was awake. He ate his breakfast hot from the pans in the kitchen, making sure to thank the cooks for what might be his last hot meal for a while. While uncomfortable living in the palace of a gentleman of leisure, he had enjoyed the food.

The quickest way to the Golden Waterfalls followed the roads for the first third of the journey, then split off into a smaller hunter’s path through the forest. 

The road was quite deserted this early in the morning, and so he made it to the forest quite quickly. Finding the hunting trail was more difficult, as the men here used different marking than those of the borderlands, but Ward was well into the woods by half the morning.

It was then that he began noticing that something was different here. The feeling was difficult to place. He paid special attention to the sounds surrounding him— but they were what one would expect for forestlands at this time of year. He began mentally cataloging the species of trees and fauna passing by— but they too, were normal. It took him much longer to realize that it was the intensity of all this that had changed. The colors were more vivid. The animal sounds were clear and sharp. The forest itself smelled quite pleasantly of flowers.

This realization made Ward quite uneasy. It felt a lot like magic, the kind that twisted a man’s sense every which way until up was down and nonsense truth. He also felt a slight surge of excitement. He must be getting close.

He rode a little while longer before he heard the crashing waters of the falls. He took a deep breath, and muttered a few words of the knight’s blessing for battle. Sir Ward rode out of the trees. He saw the Golden Waterfall, as tall as the City’s walls. They poured over the cliffs into a pool, which must have been very deep, as the water outside of the falls was quite still.

At the edge of this pool stood a woman, clad in a dress. He did not know if it was the dress or the magic of this place that drew his gaze so intently. It was rose colored, not the deep shade of the blood roses favored by lovers, but the fervent pink of summer roses. Enthralled by the color, he had dismounted his horse. It pulled him towards it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the voice of the knight who had slain four dragons in the Wilds call out that it was magic, a trap. Yet he ignored these warnings for the feeling that this was the moment that his world would change.

He had only taken three more steps. The woman in the rose dress turned.

She was beautiful. Her hair was dark, as well her eyes. She did not seem surprised by his presence, but she did not say anything. She smiled.

Now Sir Grant of Ward had encountered witches before. This was not his first hunt. But in every other circumstance, the witches had been ordinary women, no more attractive or ugly than any other. This woman must be under some sort of glamour, to be this beautiful. The only way to know this was to touch her, as glamours did not appear to the user, and, like most magics, extended to those who touched the user. So he walked the remaining steps. He reached for her cheek, but she lifted a hand to catch his.

He had expected the vividness of the world surrounding him to disappear when their hands met. He had expected her image to shift to that of a normal person. That was not what happened.

She touched his hand, and he was instantly overwhelmed by feelings of light and color and music and something else he had not felt for a very long time. He staggered back under this onslaught. She did not let go of his hand.

“Who are you?” He finally stammered out.

“I am the other half of your destiny, as you are mine.”

He struggled to regain his composure enough to address this. “What destiny?”

“I have only the faintest idea.” She smiled wider. “And who are you?”

“Sir Grant of Ward, loyal sword of the realm.”

“Hello, Sir Grant of Ward. I believe I shall call you Grant.”

He took a deep breath and resigned himself to fate. “And how shall I address you?”

She laughed. “You can call me Skye.”

 

 


	2. Cry Me a River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Grant of Ward meets the mysterious Skye, who is unlike any girl he's met before. She has a request for him. Will he comply? Or will his duty to the Baron overrule his heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... for all of you who requested another chapter, here it is! Thank you so much for reading. I'm going to try and update this on a weekly basis from here on out, if you decide to follow along. And again, any thoughts or or ideas for medieval Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. names, feel free to send me in the comments! 
> 
> This chapter's lyrics are my abbreviated transcript of "Cry Me a River" by Ella Fitzgerald.

_now_

_you say you’re lonely_

_you cried the long night through_

_well you can cry me a river_

_cry me a river_

_I cried a river over you_

_you drove me_

_nearly drove me out of my head_

_while you never shed a tear_

_Remember_

_I remember all that you said_

_told me love was too plebeian_

_told me you were through with me and_

_now_

_you say you love me_

_well just to prove you do_

_come on and cry me a river_

_cry me a river_

_cause I cried a river over you_

  


“Skye,” Sir Ward repeated, “of where?”

“Nowhere and everywhere. I do not choose being beholden to any particular place,” she visually appraised him and his mount. “From what I have heard about you, you are very much the same.”

“I go where ever my lord Archduke Fury directs,” Ward replied, quite uncomfortable under her gaze.

“But ought not a sword with your skill and success and battle spent far less time in the rough and dangerous Wildlands? Why is this the first time in seven seasons you have been in your homelands?”

Sir Ward decided that this was enough. He stepped closer to her, hoping his superior height would prove intimidating. “How do you know so much about me and my affairs? Have you the sight, witch?”

Her face was calm, a mere few inches from his. She smiled. “Is that what they told you? That I am a fortune-telling witch? No wonder it took them this long to pick up on my trail.”

 Sir Ward frowned. “Your trail?”

 “Oh, did you think you ended up here on accident? This, my dear knight, has ended exactly how I planned it.” She leaned a little closer until their bodies were a hairsbreadth from touching.

Sir Ward took a step back. “You wanted someone from the Barony to find you? What game are you playing at?”

“Sir Ward… Grant… there are things happening on these lands that predate both your and mine arrival. I would have thought that a perceptive man such as a trained and experienced knight of the realm would have noticed something so insidious as a curse.”

“A curse,” Sir Ward said, “Is that what we are currently standing in?”

Skye laughed. “For someone accustomed to slaying dragons and gryphons you are exceedingly ignorant about magic. This land, or the waterfall to be exact, is old elemental magic which has been here since this place was first formed from the nothingness.”

“What does this old elemental magic do?” asked Sir Ward suspiciously.

“This is old earth magic. It takes what nature has created and helps it grow to its full potential.

My hair has grown two finger lengths since I came here.” She twirled to exhibit its full length, catching sunbeams in its dark waves. 

“Then where is this curse you speak of?” Sir Ward could not let himself be distracted by the unknown, no matter how beautiful it may seem.

She stopped twirling, her voice cold and serious. “It is a poison in the waters, passing from village to village. Many have died, many more are sick.”

“Why did the Baron not tell me this? Has he not been informed?” Ward asked, now highly suspicious.

Skye sighed. “The residents of the Baron’s lands are mostly poor farm folk. Their families have tended these lands for generations. They have many old stories about how the Baron’s family acquired their property.”

Sir Ward bristled at the implied slight to a noble of the realm. “Say it directly and plainly, with none of your verbal nonsense.”

“The people here believe that, many generations ago, the Coulson family made a deal with a wizard to gain control of this land. The magic inherent in the land was not all like this… it was wild and dangerous. Only someone with vast magical power could control it. At that time it was a wizard from the Stark dynasty, a man named Howard. Howard, like many Starks before and hence, was a selfish man. He wanted nothing more than all of the finest things of life and it is said that the Coulsons offered him that chance. In return for the land that was given them, the Coulson family promised to the wizard not only the gold they acquired through capable management of their lands, but the lives of 20 children every year as tithe. The children, the villagers tell me, are necessary for an ancient ritual that keeps the wizard alive throughout the centuries.”

“Your grounds for not informing the proper authorities about a possible plague spreading through their lands is an old wives tale about an immortal wizard who eats children?” Sir Ward did not believe this story in the slightest.

“I cannot betray their trust simply because they have a story that seems a little far-fetched.”

Sir Ward laughed. “A little far-fetched? I’ve fought the most magical and dangerous beings the Wildlands have to offer. I have seen the most terrifying sorcery that man can create. This is a fairy tale. No creature, even the dragons, is immortal.”

Skye waved his denial aside. “I am not here to change the fabric of their culture by denying all of their beliefs. I am merely here to find what is making these people sick and to stop it.”

“How is it that one as young as you is here, alone, trying to identify a mysterious sickness without any proper authorization? Or does your magic give you the appearance of youth.”

“I am not a witch, Grant. I am a sorceress.”

Sir Ward saw absolutely no distinction between these two things, and thus merely crossed his arms and waited for her to explain herself.

“A witch uses books and ingredients to work her spells, but can do any kind of magic with these things. A sorceress is like the magic in the waterfalls: it is elemental, passed down through bloodlines. I only have access to the magic inherent in my element, and I have no formal way to channel this power.”

Sir Ward considered this information, decided it had no relevance to any decision he might make here, and proceeded to the important part of this conversation. “You say that people are sick, but they think that the Baron’s family is the source, and that it is happening because of an agreement the Coulson family made with a long-dead wizard. What is preventing me from taking you in right now to face the Baron? If this agreement is real, then you should stop your interference, because you know as well as I that each noble family has the final right of rule on their land. If not, then you and the Baron’s people are lying, and that sort of disloyalty is rewarded with death.”

“Firstly, I am not one of the Baron’s tenants or residents, so he has no rights over me. Secondly,  I am fully capable of taking care of myself. Thirdly, what if I had a proposition for you?”

“What kind of proposition?” Sir Ward asked, very, very cautiously.

Skye explained. It was lengthy, involving much consulting of information about the plague, where it had been seen, how frequent, and so forth, but in the end it came down to one request.

“I need to get onto the grounds of the manor. Can you get me there?” Skye asked, standing straight so that she could look him in the eye. She was much shorter than he, using every inch to seem as confident as possible, and yet in this moment he could see the desperation in this request.

“How do you propose to gain access to the residence of a man who specifically sent a knight out to capture you?” Ward asked. His treacherous mouth was entertaining this idea.

“He does not know what I look like,” Skye protested. “You could say I was a visiting member of family. A cousin? Or perhaps your sister.”

“The Baron would have consulted with the book of the nobility before I arrived and known that I have no family,” Sir Ward said.

Sympathy flickered over her face. “I have no family left as well.”

Sir Ward refused to let any sort of response to this revelation cross his face. “So, you see, that I cannot-”

“Do you require some favor? Labor in return for labor? An equivalent exchange?” she asked. “I might be able to accommodate such a request, dependant upon what is in my power to give.”

His deep mind immediately seized upon this as an interesting possibility, for what reason he chose not to investigate. Luckily, the part of his mind that had been trained by Archduke Fury befitting a sword of the realm was still in control.

“Why do you not let me investigate?” Sir Ward asked. “Tell me what I am to search for, and I can investigate the Baron’s home without raising suspicion. I am their new sword. I can claim that I am checking for vulnerabilities in their defenses.”

“But you have no magic, and the poison and its source could be very well hidden,” Skye protested.

“Well, I can eliminate places where the Baron and his household conduct their daily business, as none of the family has taken sick, nor would they wish to raise suspicions by harming their household staff.”

“If you wish to truly know a Lord, only consult with his man,” Skye quoted an old saying.

“Precisely. You see, it will be much easier for me to search the manor grounds, if you would just tell me for what I will be looking.”

Skye considered this offer. “All right. I agree that this is a far more practicable plan.” She pulled a piece of parchment from the front of her dress. “This is what I believe the vessel looks like. You will have to examine it closely to be sure.”

She handed him the parchment. It held a drawing of something similar to a wine vessel, adorned with ritual carvings. The paper was warm in his hand. He made sure to stow it carefully. 

“Yes,” Sir Ward said, “If it is there, I will find it.”

 "I thank you for your assistance, Grant,” she said. She stood on her toes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. Sir Ward was completely unprepared for this, and stood totally still until he could re-gather his thoughts. Skye took her leave.

 She was already almost to the tree line when he realized that he did not know from whence she came.

 “Wait,” Sir Ward said. “How can I find you again?”

 She smiled broadly. “Oh, just come here. Do not worry, Sir Grant of Ward, I will find you when the time comes.”

 And with that remark, Skye disappeared into the forest.

Sir Ward mounted his horse. But he did not set it towards any particular direction. He needed time to think. How was he to handle this situation? Why did he fail to refuse her, this girl named Skye?   



	3. I'm a Fool to Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Grant of Ward returns to the Barony and meets some unexpected guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got long… and was way late… and that I have now shoved almost the entire cast, season 1 and 2 into this story. I missed them, and seeing as almost no one got an ending I liked, I’m doing what I wished with them here. Which means: more Trip, more Kara, and less stupid deaths for the sake of invoking pathos. This is still a Skyeward fic, however, so I’m trying to spend the bulk of my time on them. Trying being the operative word. I can never quite tell what I’m going to do with these things. Also, I have realized that I have no idea how to write happy Kara, because canon HAS NO SUCH THING. At least without Ward. Which is dumb. So this is my interpretation of Kara pre all-the-awful-shit-the-writers-did-to-her-in-S2.
> 
> Song Notes: This Chapter's lyrics are from "I'm a Fool to Want You," sung by the ethereal Billie Holiday. Again, these are my vague transcriptions, so the lyrics should not be taken as accurate, more of what I needed them to be.

_I’m a fool to want you_

_I’m a fool to want you_

_To want a love_

_That can’t be true_

_A love that’s there_

_for others too_

_I’m a fool to hold you_

_Such a fool to hold you_

_To seek a kiss_

_not mine alone_

_to share a kiss_

_the devil has known_

_Time and time again_

_I’d said I’d leave you_

_Time and time again_

_I went away_

_But then_

_would come a time_

_when I would need you_

_and once again_

_these words I’ll have to say_

_I’m a fool to want you_

_Pity me, I need you_

_I know it’s wrong_

_It must be wrong_

_But while I’m wrong_

_I can’t get along_

_without you_

_I can’t get along_

_without you_

  
  


Sir Ward had ridden half the distance back to the barony when he realized that he had no explanation for his almost instant return. Well, he did, but for some reason he found himself wanting to protected the strange girl in the rose-colored dress. A quiet part in the back of his head suggested that it was perhaps because she was a witch, mistress of some sort of persuasion magic. It would explain the strange feeling growing in his breast the moment he had entered that forest. Perhaps the beautiful girl named Skye was just an illusion created by the real witch to snare unsuspecting fools. He was no fool; he was a knight of the realm. He could not be easily taken in by the tricks and stratagems of evil.

The rest of his head, however, seemed perfectly content to ignore these cautions and appeals to reputation. It was not his head that he was following now. Unfortunately, that left Sir Ward with a dilemma: how long must he stay searching to convince the Baron that he had expended real effort in pursuit of the witch? He had enough food for five days comfortably, but Skye’s insistence that the danger to the people of Barony Coulson was real and imminent was urging him to return sooner. If there was truth in her tale, then he really should act immediately. Under law, each noble was free to do as they wished in the bounds of their own lands, but in cases of treason against the kingdom or madness, the king had taken it upon himself to interfere and return order.  If the Baron was killing the people of his lands just to maintain wealth and position, that might be enough for a royal intervention.

Sir Ward considered the possibilities. Three days out, he finally decided. He would take a thorough study of the lands of the Barony, see with his own two eyes if what Skye had said seemed to be true. It would also be a good opportunity for him to learn the local geography in his new place of residence. In his seven seasons in the Wildlands, he had grown to know its terrain intimately, down to the placement of rocks within the brush. Even small alterations would be enough to alert him to impending danger. Here, he barely knew his way back to the road to the City, much less the territory and peoples he was to protect. Three days would give him sufficient time to learn this new place. He would then return to the Barony, and find the source of Skye’s mysterious poison. He did not entertain the idea that she might be lying. He was too far gone for that.

 

*        *         *

 

Three days later, Sir Grant of Ward was on the drive in front of the manor house, slowed down by a carriage and its accompanying guards blocking the road. He was deeply unsatisfied with himself. His travels throughout the Barony had given him a good feel for the physical characteristics of these lands, where the villages and the rivers stood, but it had failed to give him any further insight into Skye’s claims, or even the general dispositions of the people themselves. Like Skye, they all seemed to know that he was the new sword under the domain of the Baron. Unlike Skye, they did not seem to welcome his presence or his promises of fair judgement. Despite this, and the lack of evidence of unusual amounts of sickness, Ward found his confidence in the stranger only growing.

 After the carriage and its procession had passed through the Barony gates, Ward directed his horse off the road towards the stables. He did not recall the Baron mentioning anything about guests before Ward had left, but perhaps the Baron felt as though this information did not concern his new sword. Grant was not too concerned about this. He would make sure that his horse was properly cared for at the stables, his field kit was stowed, and then he would return to the house and greet the new arrival without all the ceremony.

With these tasks occupying the remainder of Sir Ward’s afternoon, he did not have an opportunity to set eyes on the guests until dinner. He took extra care to trim his beard to a length appropriate for polite society, but only because he felt that anything else would be deemed as disrespect to the Baron. The surly expressions of the villagers when he had been mentioned were enough to convince Sir Ward that it would be unwise to displease the Baron until he had taken a full assessment of his resources.

 When he arrived at the table, Sir Ward discovered he needed not to have worried about such formality, as the guests were not of the gentle nobility type, but rather Lady Melinda May, one of the greatest swords the realm had ever seen, and her three companions, also battle ready warriors. One of these was a training school companion of Ward’s, Sir Antoine Triplett. The others Sir Ward had never before met, but had heard spoken of as excellent swords in their own right, Lady Kara of Palmas, and a woman introduced to him solely as “Mockingbird.” In the presence of such fearsome warriors, Coulson’s daughter and her bookish husband were far more restrained than previously, only speaking when directly asked a question or when whispering among themselves. Baron Coulson seemed very comfortable, which led Ward to wonder if the seeming gentleman had seen some action back in his prime fighting years.

 More interestingly, Coulson and May seemed to be on quite friendly terms. Coulson had introduced her as an old friend. The Baron’s wife had been dead many seasons now. And Ward had heard from other knights only that Lady May was among the fiercest swords in the realm, although she had since retired from service, and that she owned property on the coast of the western sea. Was she here to arrange a match between herself and the Baron? Ward found this thought almost as ridiculous as that of his settling down and making a family. Then he remembered that a family required a wife, which led him back to Skye, twirling, hair gleaming in the sunlight.

 

Lady Kara interrupted Ward’s internal assessment by snapping her fingers, just like his old training master used to do to call them to attention.

“Yes?” Sir Ward said, mentally chastising himself for allowing Skye to become a distraction.

“I was only remarking that you and Sir Triplett seemed to know each other well,” she said, unimpressed with his inattention.

“Yes, we trained together under the same master,” Ward replied. “Although we have not seen one another since I left for the Wildlands seven seasons past. Who did you do your squire work with?”

“Lady May, of course,” Kara replied, bowing in the direction of that great lady. “Bobbi trained with her as well, although several seasons before I was there.”

“Bobbi?” Ward echoed.

“Lady Barbara Morse, whom you know as Mockingbird. A silly name, but she prefers strangers do not know her real one.”

“I see,” Ward replied. The table was full of food, the servers had retreated to the kitchens for their own meal, and Lady May and the Baron were sufficiently engrossed in conversation with the two book worms. He could use this to probe the reasons behind this visit, and if it had any connection to the poison.

“Why are such excellent swords as you, Lady Morse, and Trip here as Lady May’s protection detail?” Ward asked.

Lady Kara laughed. “Oh, we are not here as her protection detail. We are here on the Baron’s request. He has a problem on these lands that requires our skills.”

Ward must have been insufficiently skilled at covering his reaction to this statement, because  Lady Kara only laughed harder. “Have I insulted your pride, Sir Sword? Do not fret that the Baron feels you incompetent. Our visit was arranged far before you came.”  

"What problem requires three knights?” asked Sir Ward. “Are you also searching for the mythical witch of the Barony Coulson?”

“Oooh, a witch,” Kara said. “I have not fought a witch for many seasons. That would be interesting indeed. No, this is far bigger than a witch.”

“What could be more of a nuisance than a witch?” asked Ward, still miffed that the Baron had told him nothing of this other foe to the Barony. “A dragon? I have slayed many a scaly beast alone in my seasons in the Wildlands—”

Kara laughed through this all. “You really are quite touchy, are you not? Listen, I am sure that the Baron and Lady May will be glad of your assistance when the time comes. This is the kind of thing that requires all hands on deck.”

 Sir Ward frowned at the unfamiliar metaphor, but his question was blocked by the Baron. “Sir Ward, could you join us in the study after dinner?”

 “Yes, sir, of course,” Ward replied.

 Lady Kara nudged his arm with her elbow. “See, you get to come play with us too. No need to dwell on injured pride, my friend.”

 

Ward did not have a chance to say anything to defend himself before the Baron and Lady May began standing and moving towards the study. The rest of the table stood with them. Ward was surprised to find Lady Jemma and Earl Fitzsimmons among the company. He had expected that the Baron would have kept his only daughter away from these kinds of situations. They filed into the study, the Baron standing next to the fireplace, preparing for this briefing. Lady May had seated herself in a tall-backed red velvet chair, looking far more regal than any queen had before her. Lady Barbara and Lady Kara flanked her. The two nobles found chairs next to one another, endeavoring to look competent enough to earn a place in this circle, although this picture was marred for Sir Ward with their intertwined hands on the young Earl’s lap. Ward himself went to go stand in the shadows, leaning on the bookshelves next to Trip, who grinned, probably because the last time they had fought together had been one of the best moments of their young lives, as had the battles before that. Sir Ward nodded in acknowledgement, and then turned to focus on Coulson. He had missed fighting and training with Trip and the other swords, but he’d found himself to be far happier fighting unaccompanied. Things were much simpler that way.

 

“Welcome again, honored guests and new friends, to Barony Coulson. We will need all of you to destroy the threat currently facing these lands.”

Ward found himself straightening a little. The smile on Trip’s face grew more serious.

“There is a group of magic users, traveling through here, using their powers to enchant the people of these lands and those surrounding into stronger, more deadly soldiers. In doing so, they are removing the souls of these individuals, dooming them to a spiritual death even as their body still roams the earth. We must find this group and stop them, not just for these atrocities.” The Baron paused and stared them all down, one by one. He then nodded to Lady May, who indicated her approval with a slight inclination of the head.

The Baron continued. “Lady May’s informants have told her that this organization, whomever they may be, has intentions to gather an army, perhaps one even large enough to take the City. To that end, we are to discover the identity of these malcontents and dismantle them before they can do permanent damage to these lands.”

He stepped slightly to the side, and motioned towards his daughter. “Jemma has the details for this particular assignment.”

To Ward’s immense surprise, Lady Jemma extracted her hand from the Earl’s and stood in front of the fire, a piece of parchment in her hand. “The villagers and guards of the Barony have been reporting sightings of strange creatures, part man, part metal, throughout these lands, primarily at night. They are taller than normal men, and have been seen lifting entire trees single-handedly. Despite lack of a confirmed identification of these creatures, the larger number of sightings all over the Barony deemed further research.” Here she paused and turned a page in her notes.

Ward and the other knights looked on in semi-stunned silence, having had no expectation of the lovesick academic being such an expert on matters of war.

“Fitz— that is, Earl Fitzsimmons— and I spent the last season at the imperial library working on this very question. What we have found is that not only are these creatures possible, they are not particularly difficult to make other than the acquisition of two ingredients. The first, the human side of the creature, they seem to be obtaining by kidnapping members of the village. The second is rather rare, a catalyst with an infusion of earth magic.”

 

This entire briefing was beginning to make Ward uncomfortable. Not only had the Baron been aware of the death among the villagers of his lands, he had an active plan to save them. Did Skye just not know about the strange metal men? And then there was the small matter of the earth magic magical thing needed to create the creatures. Skye had told him she had earth magic. Why had he been so persuaded by her, a strange magic wielder, to act in her interest instead of those of the lands he had been sworn to serve?

 

Perhaps because he had felt like she was trying to protect the same place he was.

 

The Baron took center again. “Our first goal is to find the source of the catalyst. Once we have it in hand we can use it to draw the enemy out of the shadows into the daylight. All of you have a very specific role, and—

One of the guards burst into the study, bowed hastily, and said, “Baron, we have an intruder on the grounds.”

Everyone in the room was instantly on their feet. The Baron quickly assessed the capabilities of the room and started shouting orders.

“Lady Bobbi, Lady Kara, fan out and search the first floor. Sir Triplett, Sir Ward, take the wings and the second floor. Lady May and I will remain here. Leo, you and Jemma follow Kara to your workshop and see if you can magically detect whoever or whatever is here.” Baron Coulson turned to the guard. “Search the stables and the grounds. Any sign of magic or a companion?”

 “No, your Grace,” the guard said. “We only discovered it because one of the servants greeting Lady May at the border was discovered there bound, lacking his livery. We believe that this person used the large group to sneak on the grounds.”

“That was just after noon…” the Baron said, pondering this knowledge. “They have had many opportunities to cause harm. Tread carefully, everyone. But move quick.”

 

They dispersed to their assigned sections. Ward began his search with the hall that contained his chambers. He only wore a small dagger to dinner, as polite society generally frowned on the open display of arms at a civilized meal.  He slid silently through the hall to his door, opening all of the surrounding rooms as he passed, just as quietly, searching under the beds and in the trunks for anyone seeking to hide from detection. He finally reached his door. He opened it, and headed straight for his weapon stores. He quickly settled on a mid-length standard blade.

“Hello again,” said a voice from behind him.

 

Ward turned, sword at the ready. Standing right before the entrance to his room was a beautiful girl with long hair and a summer rose dress.

 

Skye eyed his weapon, a little bit nervously. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I told you I had it covered, that I could conduct an inquiry much more quietly and—”

Skye was suddenly right before him. Somehow she had pushed his blade down away from her. “I missed you and your misguided righteousness. And there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. See this place and this Baron for myself.”

Ward resisted his instinct to say, “I missed you too,” and instead settled for, “How did you find my room?”

Skye shrugged. “Saw door, opened door, seemed like comfortable place to hide until nighttime. I guess I have good instincts.”

“You—” Ward tried to protest.

“You have a really comfortable bed, did you know? Well, of course, it is your bed, and you have probably noticed its comforts, especially after all those years out in the Wildlands. Hard to come by a soft bed there.”

This conversation was making Ward’s head spin. He took a deep breath and attempted to regain his bearing as a knight of the realm. “What is to stop me from turning you over to the Baron for trespassing?”

“He would then find out about our earlier meeting in the woods, and probably string you up in the dungeon next to me as an accomplice. That could be fun.”

Ward did not think this was a time to inform her how truly awful a dungeon could be, so he merely said, “How long were you planning to hide here?”

“I had not set a strict limit yet on this refuge,” Skye said looking at the floor.

“You came here with absolutely no plan.” Ward stated.

“You, my dear Sir Sword, are correct.”

The sound of running footsteps filled the corridor outside. Ward thought quickly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Skye nodded. Ward shoved her up against the wall, his sword at her throat, just as Lady Jemma shouted, “The intruder is in here!”, and Ward’s door flew open. Trip, Lady Kara, and Lady Bobbi were through with swords and other armaments ready a moment later. The Baron, as well as Lady May, Lady Jemma, and Earl Fitz followed at a less urgent pace.

 

“The magic trace worked,” Coulson said to a beaming Lady Jemma. “Excellent work.”

He turned to Skye. “And who might you be?”

“Well, I might be a dog or a horse, but it seems I am merely a human girl,” said Skye. “But you can call me Skye.”

 

 


End file.
